


Bai He Liang Chi

by Dulin



Category: Gensoumaden Saiyuki
Genre: Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-10
Updated: 2009-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:32:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulin/pseuds/Dulin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment between Koryuu and his master, as the former discovers the latter isn’t all he believed him to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bai He Liang Chi

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Bai He Liang Chi’ (the white crane spreads its wings) is a form in Chen style Tai Ji Quan, old frame (laojia). Chen style Tai Ji Quan is considered the senior branch of the five main Tai Ji Quan styles, and is derived from Chen Quan, a Shaolin Quan fighting style known for its ferocity.

Komyou Sanzo was an unorthodox man as far as Sanzo monks went. His daily activities mainly consisted of skipping as many of his duties as possible to fold paper planes, smoke, drink, and generally enjoy life. Yet being one of the very select few who had the honor of carrying and protecting a sutra, and even two in his case, came with obligations. Komyou Sanzo understood all about the human need to maintain appearances, even if it amused him to no end.

“The title of Sanzo was given to me by men,” he had told Koryuu once. “And when the men bow before me, or speak respectfully to me, they do not see a man, but a word that they created themselves. They put power in this word, probably more power than it deserves. More than I deserve. I am just a man myself, after all.”

He had said those last words with a smile, and the irony had not been lost on the boy. But the other monks would not have understood. They, too, bowed before the word, but whispered behind the back of the man as if he could not hear them. And Komyou Sanzo humored them gracefully, like one would a petulant child. He was never seen in anything else but his full Sanzo regalia when outside of his private rooms, and even inside them whenever he was receiving either a guest or a pupil. Wearing them like a shield, to guard the man against the power of the word.

The robes were waiting for Koryuu, carefully folded in a corner of the room, when he came to collect them. They were made of the same white, coarse fabric that everyone else wore and bore no distinctive mark. Every week, all the monks gave one of the two sets appointed to them by the temple to be washed, and got a clean set in exchange. It was the younger novices’ task to fetch the dirty clothes and bring them to those who were on laundry duty, and to bring some fresh ones back to everyone’s room. The whole day resonated with the patter of small feet as they carried their bundles of white around.

Koryuu took his time bringing the robes out and on the pile that he had already gathered, smoothing imaginary creases, nimble fingers looking for loose threads that might need to be re-stitched before the garment could be passed on to someone else. Usually, his master was sitting in his rooms or just outside on the porch, and they would chat for a while and give Koryuu a valid reason to be late. Some times, they did not talk at all, but even without words there was a sense of quiet companionship in the air that made Koryuu want to stay longer, just a little longer, until his master would scold him for dawdling and send him on his way.

Today, the room was empty. But to the trained eye it was obvious that the occupant had just stepped out. The lazy cloud of light smoke that floated around, stabbed by sunlight, bathing the room in that sweet scent of tobacco ; the scroll on the table, carefully folded but left out for the reader’s convenience … they all spoke of the man who lived in here, in this place where he did not have to hide from anything.

It was a bit strange for Komyou Sanzo not to be in his rooms at that time of day. Then again, he technically _had_ something to do at that time of day, but usually took great delight in not doing it. Someone would come around shortly to inquire as to what was holding Master Sanzo up, and Koryuu did not want to be found alone in the room with his nose in the air and the robes clutched in his hands when that would happen. Then would begin what had become a traditional game of cat and mouse in the last years, with the monks frantically looking for Komyou Sanzo everywhere while the man himself took up a vantage point to watch the ruckus that his very absence was causing.

The monks always lost at that game, no matter what.

He was about to go out with a last longing look around when a noise stopped him dead in his tracks – the sound of flesh hitting something solid, a soft, controlled exhalation, just loud enough for him to recognize a voice, the brush of bare feet against earth. The robes fell from his suddenly shaking hands as he ran towards the sliding paper doors that opened on Komyou Sanzo’s private garden.

The garden itself was just a small patch of gravel and grass, barely more than a courtyard. The only way in was through Komyou Sanzo’s room, and its three other sides were closed with the same high walls that surrounded the temple. It did not exactly looked like a garden, mostly because Komyou Sanzo thought that plants had a right to grow wherever they wanted, and that he, as a man, should not interfere with Mother Nature’s plan for them. Which, really, was another way to say that he could not be bothered to weed, as long as there was a clear path leading to the bench under the trees. Koryuu had seen right through it, of course, but he did not mind. It allowed him to do what needed to be done in here, and to make sure his master would not inadvertently burn the whole temple to the ground.

He slid the door open with bated breath, very slowly, straining his ears to hear more, trying to take in as much as possible through the small opening without being seen. His eyes were immediately drawn to a patch of white against the darker wood of the gallery that encircled every building in the temple. A set of neatly folded robes. Koryuu frowned and looked back at the entrance door. The robes were still in a crumpled heap on the floor where he had let go of them. Then why …

He muffled an exclamation when he noticed the sutra, the roll lying innocently on top of the robes, so similar to the one on the table that you could have mistaken one for the other if not for the ornate green edge of the paper and the intricate calligraphy. If you just glanced at it, it looked like any of the precious rolls from the library, nothing more. Koryuu had never seen it off his master’s shoulders before.

Being the guardian of two sutras, Komyou Sanzo could not very well wear both of them at once. As far as Koryuu could remember, his master had always worn the Seitenkyoumon. The Matenkyoumon was tucked away safely somewhere in his private rooms, and he only took it out when he traveled or when performing a ritual that required both sutras – something that, to Koryuu’s knowledge, had never happened since Komyou Sanzo had chosen the Kinzan Temple as a permanent residence.

There was no good reason for one of the sutras to be left there on the floor. Komyou Sanzo might not display the behavior that the Kinzan monks thought appropriate for a Sanzo, but protecting the sutras was the one duty he had never and would never shirk. The way the robes were folded with the sutra carefully nestled in it suggested he had taken both off voluntarily, and Koryuu could not find a logical explanation as to why, no matter how much he racked his brains.

He took a deep breath and opened the door the rest of the way.

Komyou Sanzo was standing barefoot in the middle of the small courtyard, wearing nothing but sweatpants and the black, high-collared top that was part of his usual attire, with its cut-off sleeves. He was moving slowly, eyes closed, his body sliding into one form after another. Koryuu recognized a Tai Ji Quan frame, but the style was very different from the one that the monks used to start the day. The movements were slower, larger, interspersed with sudden bouts of rapid, violent blows. It had nothing to do with the gentle, quiet frame that was taught in Kinzan as a way to discipline the body and the mind.

All the monks received extensive martial arts training here, and Koryuu had been training with them as soon as he had been able to walk. Komyou Sanzo did not train with the other monks. It was not unusual for him to come and sit in a corner of the dojo during the sessions, but he left the teaching itself entirely in the hands of the instructors and only watched. Yet, there was no doubt that he was an accomplished martial artist himself. The garb Sanzo monks wore under their robes was not reminiscent of a ninja’s suit for nothing, after all. It had made Koryuu wonder why his master never displayed his skills, but he had never gathered enough courage to ask.

Now he knew. He knew that he did not need to be scared when his master left the temple alone on a journey. He knew that Komyou Sanzo could kill someone with his bare hands if he so wished. And he knew that he, Kinzan’s little prodigy, would die before he could lift a finger if Komyou Sanzo wished him dead. And he stared, terrified and hypnotized and unable to look away, as his master did his last form and bowed.

“Koryuu ?”

Koryuu gave a start and fell backward on his ass with a yelp. He had been holding onto the door so hard that his hand was hurting, and he was panting as if he had forgotten to breathe for a minute or two, which was probably the case. He looked up at his master with wide eyes, embarrassed and wary, but Komyou Sanzo just laughed.

“Since you are here, would you please fetch me a towel ?”

Koryuu nodded mutely and scrambled back inside, rummaging in the various cupboards for the required item. When he walked out again, Komyou Sanzo was sitting on the gallery’s floor next to his robes. Koryuu held out the towel to him with a slightly shaking hand, and received a soft ‘thank you’ in return.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, I’m afraid,” Komyou Sanzo said, wiping his face and shoulders. “There was a time when I could do this without breaking a sweat.”

Koryuu sat down next to his master and hugged his knees, staring very hard at the wooden floor.

“That was … amazing, Sanzo-sama,” he whispered.

The hand that ruffled his hair surprised him, but he relaxed almost immediately. He had never suffered anything from that hand.

“Were you scared while you were watching me ?”

“… Yes.”

“Good. There is no shame in being afraid of dangerous things, Koryuu.”

Up until now, Koryuu had never thought of his master as dangerous. It looked like he would have to think again. Getting used to it would take some time.

He stole a glance at his master. There was nothing left of the aura of restrained violence that had surrounded him earlier, just a soothing, warm presence who never failed to calm Koryuu down and make him feel safe. The contrast was mind-boggling.

“Why won’t you train with everyone else, Sanzo-sama ?” he asked. “You’d flatten them all.”

Komyou Sanzo laughed again, good-naturedly.

“You are doing quite a thorough job of it already, aren’t you ? I don’t think that they need another one of us bruising their egos. Besides, there is no challenge in facing an opponent that you know is weaker than yourself, and no glory in a victory that doesn’t teach you anything.”

“Does it mean that no one can teach you anything anymore ?” Koryuu teased with a grimace.

He earned a pat on the head for his efforts.

“No. It just means that I haven’t yet found the person who can still teach me. They might be closer than what I thought, actually. I just did not look hard enough.” Koryuu frowned, but his master shook his head, interrupting before he could ask more questions. “You’d better run along now, or I am going to get scolded again for holding you up. I get scolded enough as it is, don’t you think ? Go on, off you go !”

Koryuu got up reluctantly and went to pick up the discarded robes next to the door. He did so very slowly, lagging behind as long as he could and hoping …

“Koryuu ?”

He turned around too quickly, almost tripping on his own feet, breath coming short.

“Yes ?”

“Come back here when you are done with your chores. I think … I think we have a lot to teach each other.”

Koryuu smiled, exhilarated.

“Yes, Sanzo-sama .”


End file.
